


Soldier soldier

by caycep



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - No Powers, But hey you never know :3, Drama, F/F, If you're looking for a happy ending I've got bad news for ya, Soldier!Kara, This is a straight up drama fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caycep/pseuds/caycep
Summary: US Marine Sergeant Kara Danvers, presumed dead, is rescued after being a POW for three years. Coming back home is not at all what she expected it to be.





	Soldier soldier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onehellagaykid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehellagaykid/gifts).



> Fill for the prompt: Soldier!Kara has been missing for 3 years. Kara returns broken but alive to find Cat is married and has moved on with someone new. it takes a while for both of them to come to terms with seeing each other again.
> 
> I tried to stick to it as much as I could :D I hope you like it!

Some people found God, while they were imprisoned. Kara remembered reading about it years before, during training. The book had covered the most common coping techniques soldiers used to stay sane during captivity. Apparently, some people found they suddenly believed in God, it said, some tried meditation techniques, some argued tirelessly with their captors, some even went so far as to sympathise with them.

Kara had figured exercising would do. She’d always been one to punch first and ask questions later, so, the options being what they were, her body seemed like the most fitting thing to focus on, until became clear that whatever they were feeding her was unsuitable to support any sort of meaningful workout.

She sat in a corner staring at the empty tray that had once contained her dinner, she'd licked every trace of porridge from the bowl, ate every scrap of vegetable, munched sadly at what could’ve possibly been chicken, she'd scraped every surface down to their porous fibers, and, like every day, she was still hungry.

Part of her had hoped she would get used to the hunger, that after a month or two her body would wise up and realise that this was her life now, at least for the foreseeable future, thus no use in yearning for more. Needless to say, her body had _not_ gotten used to it. Her mind was just starting to catch up.

Kara had tried really hard to keep God out of the equation. She had never really been a religious person, her mother had been the one dragging everyone to church every Sunday. Kara's devotion had been of a different kind: she'd pledged her life to her country, she'd vowed to protect innocents, to bring justice into the world. It mattered little that the American Way was to impart justice thousands of miles from home, in a country where nobody spoke her language and people rarely regarded her as a force of good.

Maybe her god ought to be called Hubris, maybe being stuck in a small dank room licking porridge out of a wooden bowl was her punishment for it. Maybe, if she found a reason for it all, the absurdity of her situation would stop keeping her up at night.

It was in moments like these, when the physical world stopped being at the forefront of her thoughts, that the damp stone walls threatened to close down on her. The room seemed smaller than usual, the air thinner, and what little precious light filtered from underneath the door seemed to grow distant and faint. It was then that she started obsessing about the myriad little steps, the sequence of events that had brought her here.

She revisited the memories like reciting a prayer, she mouthed the words and pictured the story automatically, without lingering on their significance. The plan to cross over to the other valley, the ambush, a man that had been like a brother to her dying in her arms, nobody responding to radio, her squadmates picked off one by one by some shooter in the distance, the pain, blinding and hot when she woke up after the battle, as if mere seconds later, and then this room, her cell, her prison. No interrogation, no torture, no questions whatsoever, just people holding on to an American soldier, feeding her, clothing her, washing her in complete silence, while her soul withered away.

There was of course one thing that her soul held on to, to preserve some hope in her miserable life, and it wasn't God at all, ‘ _or maybe it was, in a sense’_ , she chuckled to herself.

It was Cat.

**

"Buy you a drink, sergeant?"

The voice belonged to the woman standing beside her: older, blonde, civilian clothes, red dress, _pretty_ dress. Kara vaguely remembered her from earlier, when she'd given a speech about military spending, supporting the troops in these troublesome times, yadda yadda. A politician, then. It took her drunk brain a few moments to connect all the dots.

"I might have had a few too many already, ma'am" she said, trying her best to sound presentable, not slur her words.

"Excellent! Perhaps the next few drinks will convince you to drop the _ma'am_ , it makes me feel old," the blonde chuckled, flashing a smile, _pretty_ smile, the kind of smile that made Kara's cheeks go all warm.

She gestured the waiter to bring more alcohol to their table, raised a glass of amber liquid to her lips and looked at Kara, expecting her to speak.

"So, are they sending you someplace scary?" the woman asked, giving up after several awkward seconds of silence.

Kara smiled, then laughed "It's only scary if you've never been there."

“Oh, is it? Tell me about it.”

And Kara did. Trying her best not to boast, trying at the same time not to wonder why this increasingly attractive woman had approached her tonight and, best of all, why she was listening to her tales of war and honour as if utterly captivated by her words.

Kara did her best to hide her surprise when the woman’s hand moved to Kara’s own hand and started playing with her fingers, lightly scratching the skin of her palm.

“Ma’am” she protested weakly, “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to-”

“Shush, soldier.” perfectly manicured fingers had touched her lips, and she dared not speak. “You’ll do as I say. You’ll follow me to my room, and you’ll show me why we pay so much money to train you Marines.”

Kara was speechless, and she had even fewer words when the woman leaned over the bar and lifted a bottle of whiskey from the counter.

“Come on, I haven’t got all night.” she said, walking towards the hall, dangling the bottle from her fingers, heels clicking on the wooden floor.

“I- I don’t even know your name?” Kara managed to stammer, as she stood up, took a few steps to try to catch up with the blonde.

“Congresswoman Catherine Jane Grant, State of California, pleased to meet you.” she said with a grin.

Kara took her hand, and immediately forgot anything else she had to say.

***

Captain Henshaw told her three years had gone by. Three years since she’d been captured, three years since the date on her _death certificate_. It was clear she couldn’t just pretend she would get to resume her life where it had been interrupted. Death, after all, is not a pause, even when it’s technically an error. People thought she was dead, her _family_ thought she was dead, and they must’ve mourned for her, cried, maybe even forgot her a little.

She wondered distantly if her room in Midvale was still the way she left it, she wondered what happened to her apartment, to all her things. She wondered, lastly, if Cat would be there to greet her. She _must_ have heard Kara had been rescued. She _must_ have gotten news that _her hero_ was coming back. _Girl of steel_ , one news report had called her, for enduring imprisonment without ever breaking. Somehow, like a horrible threatening image at the edge of her thoughts, the doubt still lingered.

Kara took a deep breath and braced for the big reveal. This was it. This was the moment of truth. She bent her head, trying to fit her frame through the small door of the plane, and stepped out, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun as her heart somersaulted between her throat and stomach.

Stepping outside felt, in a strange sort of way, like being born again, basking into the light and tumbling into a brand new life: sweaty, shaken by distress, and just about ready to cry.

She started immediately scanning the crowd, anxiety creeping slowly up her lungs and coiling itself around her throat: reporters were there, several tv crews, she saw flashes of photographers getting a snap of the historic moment: _Sergeant Danvers welcomed back home_.

Tens, maybe over a hundred people were there, short, tall, smiling, pointing, and yet every single one of them unfamiliar faces. No: she spotted Alex in the crowd, after a moment, and her heart leapt with joy at seeing her sister, yet it was just a momentary respite. Her curiosity pushed her to carry on, looking incessantly for the one woman who, in spite of her undying loyalty to her family, was the one she was really looking for.

The man behind her nudged her gently to start descending the steps, the kind and tense smile on his face made her think he believed she was dangerous, crazy, on the verge of a sudden breakdown. That wasn’t far from the truth. Every moment she spent looking around the sea of faces, none of them the right one, the right shape, build, height of cheekbones, none of them crowned by blonde curls, none of them smiling at her like she was the prettiest girl in the room, none of the purring at her with pride and lust and-

“Sergeant, we need to move” Captain Henshaw had walked back up the staircase and grabbed her by her elbow. She felt like wrenched from a dream, blinked several times to shake herself into composure.

“Yes, sir” the soldier inside her responded.

***

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone” Alex said, brow furrowed into lines of worry, the way she always did when playing the older sister.

“Please, I just need to breathe, can’t you just trust me?”

Alex scoffed, she clearly _didn’t_ trust her, but Kara recognised that same attitude everyone had had with her since she was reintroduced into society: as if she was a porcelain doll, one small misstep, a fumble of hands and she could shatter. Everyone walked on eggshells around her, trying not to contradict her too much, saying her name a little too often.

“Kara…” her sister trailed off, defeated. “All right. But I’ll be back with dinner in a few hours.”

Kara nodded assent and turned to stare off into space, her mind already miles away, simultaneously distracted and stiff with concentration, waiting for her sister to leave.

As soon as she heard the door click behind her, she grabbed her shiny new phone, stared at its lockscreen: no new notifications. Just the time. 15:28. She unlocked it.

Why hadn’t Cat called her yet? What was she waiting for? What was the etiquette in situations like these? Should the formerly dead girl make the first move? Should she send a tasteful bouquet of carnations? Just show up at her doorstep?

Contemplating that last option made her cringe with unease. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to do. They found the list of contacts, scrolled down to Cat’s number, closed the app.

She opened the search app instead, typed Cat’s name, then pressed “enter” a little too hard. So much information on such a little screen. Catherine Jane Grant, current Governor of California. _Governor? Congratulations are in order_. She started to smile but her expression froze into a grimace when she figured out what else she had missed in three whole years.

Cat got married. Cat got married to a man. The kind of man featured prominently in toothpaste commercials. White, serious-looking, impeccable smile. The kind of man a Governor ought to be married to.

She fought a sudden urge to cry, scream into her hands, pick up the coffee table that came with the shoddy rented apartment and throw it against the window - she wanted to punch the wall until she couldn’t feel her knuckles anymore. She did none of that. She went back to the Contacts app, this time she pressed the big green _dial_ button.

“Kara?” Cat’s voice was wavering, straining, as if forced to come out against its will.

“That’s me, ma’am,” Kara replied, cursing herself for such a stupid, formal, reply.

“Oh Kara… I heard they found you, that you were back…” Cat seemed to search for the right words for a long time, continued before Kara could interject, “now is not a good time to talk. Where are you? Can we meet tonight?”

***

The diner was not particularly remarkable, a busy place, at the edge of DC, just over an hour’s drive from Kara’s apartment. Kara had accepted coffee from the offering waitress automatically, without considering the question at all. Now she sat, fingers curled against the mug mostly for warmth. She hadn’t really tried coffee yet, since they brought her back, she didn’t know what it would do to her. Her sleep schedule was already all over the place without it: she decided not to investigate.

She figured it was appropriate that she be the one waiting for Cat right now. Cat had waited for her for years. Or had she? She probably waited for _some time_ before dropping every hope and marrying that _man_. She couldn’t even bring herself to call him by his name, or insult him. She didn’t know him at all, except he was not to blame in all of this.

The spot she picked offered a nice view of the entrance. Every time the door swung open her heart ached a little, all adrenaline and clenched fists. She swore she’d be ready when _she_ walked in the doors, but she realised she wasn’t exactly in the best possible shape. Jet lagged and sleep deprived, Kara felt like her body had been flung far into an unfamiliar future and her soul was struggling to catch up.

Seemingly out of nowhere, holding the door for a family of three, polite as always, Cat appeared at last. It took one hundred years for her to get to the booth, every step slow and deliberate, stretched in the most hyperbolic slow motion.

“So it’s really you.” Cat said, hand outstretched in a tentative almost-touch. She went for caressing her cheek but stopped midway, as if unsure if she was allowed, suspicious of the reaction she might trigger.

“Yeah.” Kara stared down at her coffee, as if she could heat it up by focusing on it in just the right way.

“I’ve got to be honest, I don’t… I don’t really know what to make of this.” Cat added, breaking the silence between them.

“I don’t think I can help you with that.”

“I didn’t mean that!” Cat reached with her hand a second time, this time going for Kara’s fingers, she curled her hand on top of hers, who still hadn’t moved from the mug. “I just mean I didn’t think it was possible, I didn’t really plan for this. I always plan for everything...” it was strange to see Cat ramble a little, this was new.

“Forgot to account for your dead girlfriend coming back and disrupting your suburban life, did you?” It came out decidedly more bitter than she intended. This conversation was not going well.

“Kara I…”

“I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you. I loved you so _fucking_ hard I never gave up on it because I knew you’d be there when-” her throat choked closed, tears flowing from her face. So much for her glorious comeback.

She stood up suddenly, her body still drunk with exhaustion, and walked, as fast as she could manage, towards the restroom. “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna wash my face,” she half-shouted behind her.

She turned on the faucet and stared hypnotised at the water flowing down the drain. Whooshing and whirling, twisting into a vortex and disappearing forever in the black. This had been a terrible idea. Part of her was starting to hope Cat would be gone by the time she made it back to the table.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and the sensation registered with severe delay. She lifted her gaze and turned, transfixed, absolutely baffled at the hug that waited for her there, the familiar shape and fit of body against body, of breasts and arms and stomachs, and the deadly all-consuming smell of Cat.

Kissing her was _oh so strange_ , it was familiar and it was _different_. It was at once the kiss she’d been waiting for since the beginning of time, since she’d started counting the time, but it was also wet and fast and loud and it woke up thoughts she didn’t even realise she had inside her.

She felt warm all over and weak, a brand new well of tears ready to burst. Cat held her face in her hands, kissed her forehead, her nose, both her cheeks. It felt like being safe, like finally coming home.

“Cat, what are we going to do?”

“Oh honey, I don’t know. I really don’t know.”


End file.
